From Bayport to Nevada
by Hoss' Sweetheart
Summary: The Hardy Boys and their family move to Nevada. They meet the Cartwrights. Set in the 1800's. Please read and review. Thank you! I don't own the characters and I am not making any money off of it.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of the Bonanza characters or any of the Hardy Boy characters. I am not making any money off of this. Please read and review! Thank you!

Joe stood in the general store, running his fingers over the smooth barrel of a shiny rifle. His birthday wasn't for a couple of months. Maybe when he turned eighteen his pa would buy it for him.

"Joe!" Little Joe's head snapped up as he heard his name being called.

"Yeah, Pa?" The words had just escaped his lips when he heard someone else say "Yeah, Dad?" Turning around he saw a blond haired kid.

"I think he was talking to me," the young man said with a smile.

A tall stranger stepped forward. "Joe, lets get going." He was looking at the blond haired boy when he spoke.

The kid put down the item he was looking at. Following his father, he disappeared out the door. By this time, Little Joe had stopped eyeing the gun and sauntered over to the counter.

"Do you know who that was?" Joe asked. He tried not to sound too interested, but he waited eagerly for the storekeeper's reply.

The man nodded. "Some famous detective." Scratching his fresh shaven chin, he laughed. "I don't know why Virginia City needs Fenton Hardy for. It not like he's gonna solve too much crimes around here."

"Fenton Hardy, huh?" Joe said, quietly. "Who was that kid with him?"

The man shrugged. "I expect it was one of his boys. He has two of 'em, you know."

"Where'd they used to live?" Joe asked, leaning forward on the counter and waited for the answer. "They don't sound like they're from around here."

"Someplace called Bayport."

"From the east?" Joe asked.

"That's what I heard," the man replied. Joe nodded, thoughtfully. That kid was probably another Yankee granite head like his brother.

Little Joe said a hasty goodbye as a couple of new customers stepped into the store.

"Watch where you're going you no good little runt!" It was in that moment Joe Hardy realized he had picked the wrong time to cross in front of the Bucket of Blood. Looking at the man, he couldn't bring himself to say he was sorry. The man was drunk. He stumbled out of the saloon as just as Joe was walking by the swinging doors. The man had smashed into _him_.

"Why don't you watch where _you're _going?" The words slipped of Joe's mouth before he thought about what he was saying. Frank, his older brother, had told him often that his mouth would get him into trouble one day.

Before Joe could do anything, the man grabbed his shirt and spun him around, ramming him into the front wall of the saloon, his head smashing against the rough wood.

"Just because you're some famous detective's son, don't give you the right to talk to me like that, Boy." His words were slurred, and he was putting an enormous amount of pressure on Joe's chest. Struggling to breathe, Joe tried to wriggle away. The one of man's fist was inches away from Joe's face, and his grip on the fabric of Joe's shirt was so strong his knuckles were turning white.

"Let me go!" Joe managed to force out. He tried to push the man away, but all that got was a couple of raspy laughs.

"Hey, Lefty," the man called over to, what Joe guessed to be his buddy. "Give me your belt," the man ordered.

"Leave the kid alone, Jake," Lefty said. "C'mon, I'll buy you another beer." He wrinkled his nose at the thought of getting involved in another fight. It would be the third in two days. He was getting tired of them.

"His Pa will have you put away for beating on him."

He hoped the argument would dissuade his pal from doing anything. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect on Jake.

"I ain't scared of that lily livered pansy of a detective!" Jake shouted, frothing at the mouth. Joe had a brief vision of gallons of beer overflowing from the man.

"Fine," Lefty muttered, reluctantly. His fingers struggled with the belt buckle. He had one beer to many, himself, and his hands shook as they grasped and pulled the leather belt out from the loops. Joe's eyes darted from Lefty, and then to the crowd that had started to gather around the spectacle. Joe wanted to shout at them. They were all standing around looking like half wit goats. Most of them were dusty miners and cowboys. Maybe they were interested in seeing an easterner get the tar beat out of him. He shook off the thoughts and forced his mind back to what was going on.

With as much force as he could muster Joe flung out his foot hoping to connect with something. Jake felt it coming and dragging Joe away from the wall, he held the him at arms length. Joe was thrown off balance and would have fallen over backwards if Jake hadn't been holding him so tightly.

Grabbing the belt from his friend's shaking hand; Jake raised it above his head. Joe flung himself backwards with as much force as he could muster. There was a tearing sound, and Joe fell onto the wooden walkway. Jake's face turned purple in rage, and he leapt forward, dropping the piece of cloth that had been left in his hand. Joe was barely aware of the belt as it struck him on the shoulder. He was too angry. He rolled to the side and onto his knees as the belt struck him again, this time on the head. His vision blurred, but instead of cowering and waiting for the blows to stop, he dived at Jake. His shoulder connected with Jake's legs. The man toppled over, and landed on the ground with a thud. Joe scrambled over to Jake's upper body. Without giving him anytime to react, Joe slammed his fist into Jake's face. He was about to do again, when he felt himself being hauled away, from behind. His collar choked him as the person who was doing the hauling, yanked on it.

"Hey, what's going on?" A voice yelled.

Joe heard those words shouted above the ringing in his ears. He recognized the voice, but couldn't put a name or face to it. Digging his heels into the ground he tried to slow the dragging process. With a sudden jerk on his collar, it was then let go and he fell to the ground hard. Joe rolled onto his stomach and glanced up. It was the kid from the general store. Joe watched as the boy got a couple of good punches to Lefty's nose. He winced as one of Lefty's punches connected with the kid's face. Jumping up, he was about to throw himself in into the fray, when a fist smashed into his back, sending him flying. The world was starting to go black around the edges and his head was jerked back by his hair.

"You should have stayed in the east, Boy," Jake growled, into Joe's ear.

Joe tensed and waited for the inevitable. Instead, Joe felt his head being let go and Jake tumbled onto his back. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he tried to roll out from under the heavyset man. Without warning, the weight was lifted and he turned onto his back and looked up. He was staring into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

"Hey there," the man said. "looked like you needed a hand." He offered a giant paw to Joe.

"That's for sure," Joe said. He gave the big man a grin before accepting the offer of help up. Once he was on his feet the ground swirled beneath him and he stood there trying to get his bearings.

"Hey, are you okay?" The man asked, putting his hand on Joe's elbow.

"I'll be fine," Joe said, with a grin. The ground stayed in one place now, and he was able to look around. The crowd had disappeared. Jake and Lefty were lying on the crowd, but a couple of men from the saloon decided it wasn't good business to let the customers see them like that. They were hoisted away, quickly. The kid from the general store was breathing heavily, and his hat was lying in the dirt. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and a smear of blood went from his lip to his right cheek. He most of it away with the back of his hand, and stepped over.

"Thank you both, for all your help," Joe said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure what I would have done if you two hadn't showed up.

"I didn't do very much," the younger man admitted. He nudged the big man with his arm, "My brother, Hoss, did most of the work," he said, a little sheepishly. He rubbed his jaw, "All I managed to do was get my face rearranged."

"Joe, are you alright!" Joe swiveled around. Frank, his older brother was running toward him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," He said, right at the same time as the other young man. Joe looked at the other kid quickly and grinned. Frank was appeared confused.

"You don't look fine to me." He stopped short. "Either of you…"

"Well, I got into a little scrape, but Mister…" Joe stalled for a second.

"Just call me Hoss," was the big man's reply.

"Hoss and Joe helped me out," Joe continued. He felt funny saying his own name.

"Most people 'round here call me Little Joe," the kid said.

"I can't thank you enough for helping out my brother," Frank said. He shook both of their hands and then turned to Joe. "What were you doing near the saloon?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but Joe knew his brother better than that. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now.

"Well, I heard they got a new shipment of whiskey and I thought I'd try a sip before I went to find you, like Dad asked me to do," Joe responded sarcastically. "I didn't realize that just by walking near the saloon I was in a fine way to get my head bashed in."

Little Joe grinned at this comment and then snatched his hat out of the dirt.

"I wonder if all Joe's are alike," Hoss said, with a laugh.

"You know what Aunt Gertrude is going to say about this, right?" Frank asked his younger brother as they headed for their horses.

"Oh boys! This place is _so _uncivilized. My brother should have known better, than to drag his family all the way out here!" Joe said, in his best sounding Aunt Gertrude tone. Then he rolled his eyes. Why did Aunt Gertrude have to come along with them, anyway? She should have stayed east.

Joe ignored the curious gazes from the towns people. He knew he looked awful. He felt _awful,_ but he didn't want Frank to know that. He couldn't do anything about his appearance. His shirt was ripped beyond repair. He was covered in dirt and his boots were scuffed. He wouldn't have minded being so dirty, if his body didn't ache. He nudged his horse a little faster, and tried not to think about the aching in his head.

"Lets get home," Frank said, above Joe's muddled thoughts. Joe nodded.

It was strange hearing his brother say the word "home." Nevada was their new home. They had left Bayport behind. His heart ached at the thought of the town he had lived in for so long. This state was where he was staying. He lifted his head, and set his jaw. He was going to make the best of it, if it killed him…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

"I don't think you should be gallivanting around this wild country, especially at night!" Aunt Gertrude insisted, with a shake of her sighed. If it was up to his aunt he wouldn't be leaving the house period. Joe tried to listen to her patiently, but was elated that his dad had already said he could go. Nothing his aunt said was going to make a difference.

The other day, when Mr. Cartwright had come to welcome the family to Nevada, his youngest son had come with him. Joe had greeted them with enthusiasm. Little Joe had mentioned there was going to be a dance in town. Ben had suggested that they all go. The only one who had really liked the idea was Joe. The others had declined gracefully. Little Joe was supposed to meet him in front of the house, and they would ride into town together. It was simpler than roaming around hoping he had gotten the right directions.

Joe saddled up his chestnut mare, Sonata. She looked at him like she was surprised he was heading out so could hear the sound of hoofs beating, and he figured it was Little Joe. He gave Sonata an affectionate pat on the neck, and then pulled himself up onto the saddle. "Glad to see you're all ready!" Little Joe said, grinning. Cochise neighed, as if he was saying hello to the pretty Mare he had just laid eyes on.

"Ready and waiting," Joe replied, nudging Sonata forward.

The ride seemed to take no more than a few minutes, as Little Joe and Joe Hardy talked and laughed all the way to town. The town was bustling with noise. It was welcoming and in a way, scary. Joe had always loved going to dances, and other events back in Bayport, but it felt so strange and dangerous in Nevada. He glanced over at Little Joe, who was nodding and tipping his hat to a couple of passing riders. His ease with the surroundings was apparent. It made Joe homesick. He shook away the feeling, resolved to enjoy himself as much as he could that night.

Joe watched as the dresses flowed in rhythm around him. Girls, flushed face and breathing hard, fanned themselves after the rigorous dancing they had done. Joe had danced a couple of times, but as the evening wore on he decided to stand back and watch.

He was resting near the punch bowl sipping his drink, when his elbow was jostled, making the punch spill on his boots. He glanced at the retreating figure. It was a girl. She had hair draped down her back like an exquisite tapestry. It formed ringlets that shook as she hurried outside into the garden. Joe watched as a man who looked a little older than himself, follow her out. Joe shrugged to himself, and looked down at his shoes. Splattered with the red liquid they were ruined for dress shoes, but would work fine for any outdoor wear. He wondered how he was going to sneak them past Aunt Gertrude.

He moved past the door, and shot a look outside. The girl who had raced outside was standing in with her back to Joe. The man was standing in the moonlight. He was glaring and his lip was curled in anger. The girl took a step back as the man raised his hand and struck her. She collapsed to the ground as Joe flung the door open. Bunching up his fists he ran over to the man, and dived at him. His fist landed a solid blow to the guy's cheek, and the guy fell to the ground. The man, considerably larger than Joe, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled his own fist back. It enveloped every ounce of Joe's vision, and his head snapped back as as knuckles connected with flesh.

"This is none of your affair!" The man growled, flinging a stunned Joe off and into a small patch of flowers.

"I'm making it my affair," Joe retorted, pulling himself up from the crushed blossoms.

"Charlie, just leave!" The girl yelled, pulling at the man's coat. He flung out his arm catching her in the stomach. She doubled over gasping for breath. Joe, recovered enough from the blow so that he wasn't seeing double, went to fling himself at the man, again, but the man was already disappearing back into the party.

"Miss, are you all right?" Joe asked as he limped over to the prone girl. Joe offered her his hands and helped her to her feet.

"Yes, thank you," She said, clutching her stomach. "Just a little out of breath."Joe grabbed her arm and helped her over to a bench and they sat. It was dark outside, but enough light came in from indoors for them to see each other clearly.

"Looks like he got you good," the girl said. Joe touched his chin and winced.

"I've had worse," He said. "I think your face is going to be just as bruised as mine." his tone had changed from wry to angry in a matter of seconds.

"It'll go away," the girl said, quietly."Who was that guy?"

"Just someone..."

"He can't be just someone if he hits you like that."

Tears gushed forward and the girl's body shook like an aspen leaf in the wind. "He practically owns me." Joe was shocked to hear those words.

"He can't own you."

"His father owns the mortgage on my father's ranch," the girl's slender shoulders slumped, as if she was tired of bearing a burden on them, and she was ready for someone else to help out.

"What does he have to do with it?" Joe asked.

"Charlie, says if I won't marry him, his father is going to forclose on the ranch."

Joe looked into the girl's eyes, "That doesn't sound legal to me."

"Oh, he won't say it's because of me not marrying him, but he'll have his father come up with some reason to do it." She shook her head in frustration. "Everyone thinks he is such a good boy. _There goes Charlie. He takes after his father. Isn't Charlie so sweet? He is educated, you know!_ It makes me sick!" Clenching her fists, tears trailed down her cheeks and landed on her knuckles.

"I'll talk to my father, and see if he can do anything about it," Joe offered.

"No, it's okay..." She said.

"But, he might know what to do," Joe insisted. She layed a porcelain white hand on his shoulder.

"It will be okay." She smiled. Joe placed his larger, warm hand over her tiny one.

"My name is Joe Hardy."Her voice grew lighter as she laughed.

"I know! I saw you when you first came into town."

"Why didn't I see you?" Joe asked, with a grin.

"I was there, but polite ladies don't walk in front of the saloon," She couldn't help but laugh again as she saw Joe's ashamed face.

"You saw the fight?"By this time the girl's hands were back in her lap and she was concentrating.

"Yes, yes I did..."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Joe said. Her head shot up and her eyes flashed with amusement.

"I wouldn't have missed it! You fought beautifully!" "Really?"

"Yes! I'm glad that Hoss and Little Joe stepped in to help out, though."

"Me too!" Joe laughed. He stopped laughing and his face became serious. "Is there anyway I can help?" Gazing into her eyes he knew that he wanted to help badly, not just wanted but _needed_ to help.

"I don't see how," She said.

"I want to help," Joe said.

"We have plenty of fences that need to be mended," The girl said, teasingly.

"Fences?" Joe said. "Okay, what time will you be expecting me? Oh, and where do you live?" His broad grin came back.

"No, I was joking..." the girl said.

"I'm not," Joe insisted.

"Well, my father and brother are sure to be able to use a hand with it...

"What time?" Joe persisted.

"Will Monday at six in the morning be alright?" She asked.

"It's wonderful!" Joe said. "Where do I find you?"

"Little Joe can give you the directions," the girl said, smiling. "I see that you are becoming friends."

"Little Joe has been great. We have a lot in common," He said. He looked into her eyes again. "There is one more thing."

"What's that?"

"You still haven't told me your name."

"Oh!" She rolled her eyes. "How stupid of me. My name is Iola. Iola Morton."


End file.
